


Stupid Cupid

by oli_oop



Series: Hawkward Holidays [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Brainwashed Boyfriends, Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Fluffy, Holidays, Multi, There's not enough Winterhawk, Valentine's Day, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9786308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oli_oop/pseuds/oli_oop
Summary: Just before Valentine's Day, Steve decides that our two favourite guys need some time apart so they'll quit risking their lives for each other. Is it just what Cupid ordered, or will this plan miss the mark?





	1. February 10

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Apologies for this not being in the series at first. I got too excited to upload, then AO3 fainted, but we're all in the clear now! If you'd like to go and see how the boys got to this point, check out A Christmas Miracle! I'm planning on doing the holidays as they crop up, so let me know if there's anything you absolutely want me to hit. Happy [belated] Heart Day!

Clint stifled a chuckle. His phone buzzed again and he tried to cover his laugh with a cough. Steve glared at him while he was still talking.

Bucky’s phone buzzed and he stealthily looked at it and grinned a little, typing something back quickly. 

Clint started wheezing after his phone buzzed. Steve stopped talking and crossed his arms.

“Clint, you’ve got to be joking.” He said, looking supremely disappointed. “Guys, you can go ahead and leave. Not you, either, Bucky.” The rest of the team picked up their briefing materials and shuffled out, with only a short “Oooh,” from Tony. 

To Bucky’s credit, he looked a little ashamed. Clint just kept silently shaking and trying to keep in his laughter. 

“Listen, guys. I’m glad the two of you are happy and all, don’t get me wrong,” Steve started. Clint’s eyes watered and his whole face was beet red. “What even was so funny?” Clint couldn’t keep it in anymore. He burst into hysterical laughter, gripping his side (which had been stitched three days ago. He could feel them popping.) and slapping his knee.

“It wasn’t even that funny,” Bucky said, chuckling at his boyfriend’s reaction.

“Yes, yes, it was,” Clint wailed. After a few seconds of him calming down, he wiped his eyes and shook his head. “It wasn’t even so much the joke as much as the fact that you memed.” 

Steve had a face that said if he were on The Office, he’d be looking into the camera with a long-suffering stare.

“Alright. You done?” Steve said, frown on his face. Clint nodded and leant back in his chair. 

“Yeah, all good, Cap,” Clint said jovially. 

“Great. You’re off the mission.” Steve said dismissively, tapping papers on the table to align them. 

“What!?” Clint blurted, putting his feet back on the ground and spreading his hands.

“Steve, come on,” Bucky said, standing. “We were just screwing around!” Steve rounds on Bucky.

“Just screwing around?” He said, voice raising. “Buck, these are people’s lives here!” He smacks the papers he holds in one hand against his other hand. “This mission means life or death for people around the Hydra base, and you want to screw around.” 

“Steve, that’s not what I meant and you know it.” Bucky spat. Clint stood, smacking his phone down on the table.

“Enough!” He said, over top of Steve’s next retort. “Fuck.” He seethed. “Steve, this is bullshit. There’s other people on the team that behave more like bastards than cracking up one time in a briefing, and nobody’s got suspended before.” Clint was dangerously quiet, something that made Bucky’s hair stand up on the back of his neck. “Either you got a problem with me and Bucky, or you got your own shit going on, but you can’t just take me off a mission without justification.”

“My justification is that the two of you need to get out of each other’s orbit for a little while,” Steve said, a vein prominent on his forehead. He was otherwise calm because he knew he’d block Clint out of the conversation, and that’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to do here.

“What does that even mean?” Bucky asked, aghast.

“That means you’ve taken the past six missions together as a pair,” Steve said, rifling through his papers.

“So what? All of them were resounding successes.” Clint replied, beginning to list them. “Lithuania took four hours, no civilian casualties, in and out. The one farther north, wherever that was, we got the hostages out, no civilian casualties--”

“In Lithuania, you broke your collarbone, in Novgorod, Bucky ended up stabbed, in Minsk you  _ threw _ yourself off a fucking  _ cliff, _ ” Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You two end up getting hurt trying to stop the other one from getting hurt. You’re a dream team, you really are, but you’ll end up killing yourselves trying to save each other. You have to work apart for awhile.” Steve said, dropping his hands. “Clint, you definitely ripped your stitches laughing.” He said, defeated.

“No, I didn’t,” Clint protested, but Bucky pulled his shirt out from his side.

“Babe,” He said. A growing red stain was creeping along the dark green fabric. Clint swore and tore the shirt off and carried it out of the room.

“The word’s final!” Steve called after them. “You’re hurt anyway!”

Clint dunked the shirt in cold water in a nearby bathroom. Bucky jutted his hip against the doorframe and watched Clint. His face was slightly flushed from either the shouting or the blood loss, his lips pulled back from his teeth. He was muttering slightly like he usually does when he’s livid. His hair was still snarled from sleep, even though it was four in the evening. The jeans he’s had since he left the circus were slung low, ripped on both knees, and worn from what he guessed used to be a deep blue that were now almost grey in most places, and bluer near the seams. 

“You get it out?” Bucky asked. Clint looked over at him and hummed a question. “You get it out? Want me to get the soda water?” Clint shook his head and began to work up some spit in his mouth, and before Bucky could stop him, he laid a fat one right on the stain. Clint scrubbed that into the shirt and started dunking it again in the cold water. 

“Why would you get soda water?” Clint asked innocently, after repeating the process three more times. 

“That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Bucky said, in shock. Clint blinked at him owlishly.

“Well, how do you get the stains out?” Bucky processed that for a moment, and had a gripping flashback to the time that his new beau offered to get the blood stains out of the shirt he wore on New Year’s Day to that one mission with the cult. 

“Burn that shirt.” Bucky demanded, grabbing for it.

“No! Damn it, now,” Clint swore, snagging it back. He sloshed water onto the floor and Bucky slid a little in his socks.

“Gross, Clint!” Clint threw the decorative hand towel on the floor and mopped up most of the spill. Bucky whipped his socks off and held them out from his body. Clint sat back on his heels and looked at Bucky’s face. It was a lovely mixture of ‘Really done with your shit, Clint,’ and ‘Really, Clint?’ Clint snorted at him, and Bucky broke into a smile. “Seriously, you’re filthy.” He said, chuckling. 

“Want me to take your socks to the hamper?” Clint asked, standing and collecting the towel and his shirt. Bucky held them out and Clint snagged them, kissing Bucky’s shoulder on the way past.

“Bring me new ones, please.” He requested. Clint raised a hand in recognition. As he rounded the bed, Bucky thought of something else. “Hey!” He shouted, cupping a hand to his mouth. “Don’t wash the towel with the shirt! Pepper will strangle you with it!”

“Right!” Clint yelled back. Bucky rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen to grab some fruit and a bottle of water. Tony was hovering near the coffee pot.

“Very cute. Very domestic.” He said when he saw Bucky. Bucky’s cheeks coloured. “Appreciate you thinking about the towel. Clint’s a brute with the laundry.”

“What, he turn your Egyptian silk briefs pink or something?” Bucky snarked as he washed his apple off.

“Egyptian  _ cotton _ , heathen, and no. He shrunk all of my sweaters once. It was a travesty.” Tony said flippantly as he grabbed the milk out of the fridge. He put only enough in the mug to cool the coffee just past the blistering point before he took two large slugs of it. “I heard that you two are getting separated in the field.” Ah, Tony. Never one to mince words.

“That happened three minutes ago.” Bucky said flatly. 

“I heard two minutes ago.” Tony replied in the same tone of voice. “Well?”

“I dunno. I guess it’ll be alright,” Bucky said, shrugging and leaning on the counter. He bit into his apple as Tony watched him closely. “Good to diversify.” He said finally, with his mouth full. 

“God, and you say I’m gross.” Clint said as he handed Bucky his socks. Bucky handed the apple out in trade, so he could have both hands for the socks. Clint stole a bite, then spied the coffee and perked up. “Can I--”

“No.” Tony replied with a smirk. Clint glared at him and defiantly got a mug from the cupboard after giving Bucky back his apple. Tony rolled his eyes, but chuckled as he headed back to the lab. 

Once they were alone again, Clint looked at Bucky over his mug. 

“We’re gonna be cool, right?” He asked Bucky. Bucky nodded slowly.

“Yeah. We’ll be alright.”


	2. February 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If *you're* planning this date and *I'm* planning this date, then who's driving the bus?

_ “I’M NOT ALRIGHT!”  _ Clint shouted as he hung on to the crossbeam of the warehouse. He and Natasha were sent to a new warehouse just outside of Detroit, where Hydra was taking new recruits to train them. Clint and Natasha’s job was to capture the higher-ups and pump them for information. 

Standard, run of the mill stuff. 

As Clint let his bow drop from his hand and dangle by the wrist strap, he thought about where this could have possibly went sour. His other hand made contact with the beam but a Hydra agent shot at it and he almost fell to his certain death.

The sourness could have started when he and Natasha got into their positions. He was tucked away in the ceiling struts, where he usually hides when he’s the eyes in the sky. Natasha was sitting in the observation room, waiting for the superiors to come in for the day. Clint, while perched in his spot, chose to pull out a cough drop. He insisted that he was fine before they left, just a little throat tickle, nothing to worry about. 

The door opened across the warehouse, and four men walked into the open floor. They began turning on lights. Clint was above the lights and damn near impossible to see unless you had your own flashlight. One of the guys walked closer to him, saying something back to the group. 

“Are they anywhere near you?” Natasha asked over her comm unit. Clint tapped it twice, signalling that he couldn’t talk. She could extrapolate from there. “How many?” He tapped out four and scanned the area. Two of the men were beginning to set up weapons on a table on the far area. One guy was heading for Natasha’s position, and the fourth guy was on his phone near the door. Clint leant slightly forward to try and see if he could read the lips on the guy on the phone from here, and when he began to focus, he felt the cough drop slide from between his teeth. 

“Shit.” He said lowly. 

“What?” The guy below him said, looking at the thing that had stuck to his jacket’s arm. “Is that a Ricola?” He asked, perplexed. Clint nocked an arrow before the guy looked up, just in case the guy saw him. The warehouse was pretty tall, but there was always the chance that he could see past the lights. The man on the phone finished up and headed over to where the perplexed dropped lozenge victim stood, still trying to decide whether or not he was hallucinating. 

“Joey, we gotta get going. The recruits will be here in fifteen.” Lozenge man, Joey, swiped the cough drop from his shoulder and followed the cell phone guy up the stairs. Clint shifted his attention to the other two. They were finished taking the weapons out of the lockboxes. Clint presumed they were teaching people to shoot.

“Guess they’re shit teachers,” Clint muttered, thinking about the times that he dodged a bullet by staying exactly where he was. 

“Now!” Natasha said over the comms. Clint fired an arrow into one of the knuckleheads downstairs and reached to nock an arrow for the second one when he heard a gun go off and felt the vibrations in the beam he was crouching on. He turned to see who was shooting at him and found the guy who caught his cough drop standing on the stairs. Natasha tore out of the observation room, the other guy seemingly subdued, but the Joey took another shot. Clint pressed himself to the beam, but with his bow in his hand, he couldn’t get a good grip on the beam. His legs slid off the beam and he dangled as Natasha bore down on Joey. 

Maybe it went sour this morning, come to think of it. 

He was told that he was going to be put on a mission with Nat instead of going with Bucky, and he couldn’t help but be a little moody. He hadn’t stopped being irritated with Steve since he was banned from doing missions with his boyfriend. It was like he wasn’t allowed to make his own decisions or something, and it really rubbed him the wrong way. 

Natasha, being a great friend, had his coffee ready that morning. 

He had woken up after Bucky had already left for his own mission, and he was annoyed that he didn’t even get to kiss him goodbye or anything. When Nat handed him his cup and said something about the old days, he groused about how Bucky made it differently.

Natasha didn’t talk to him the rest of the morning.

Now that he was dangling from a beam, he wondered if an apology was worth less in a life-or-death situation. 

Natasha must’ve kept the other guy company long enough for Clint to get his hands on the beam and swing himself up. He shot the guy Natasha was tangling with in the leg.

“Thanks,” She said breathlessly. Clint went to where he had coiled up his rope and descended from the beam. 

“Well, they said that the recruits would be here in about 15 minutes, so maybe we oughta move this party elsewhere,” Clint said, packing up his rope.

“Sure.” Natasha said. Clint cringed at the one-word responses. 

They ended up taking Joey into some fields nearby. He was terrified but pretty much alright. They got information out of him about what they were training the recruits for and how many recruits they had. Run of the mill, boring mission.

Natasha was quiet on the flight home. Clint rattled an apology around in his mind a few times, trying to get the wording just right. When he thought he had it, Natasha shushed him.

“I already forgive you.” She said grinning wryly in the copilot seat. “I only wanted to see how long it’d take you to know you did something.” Clint short circuited for a minute before he laughed and shook his head. 

“I guess I deserve that.” Natasha laughed as well before squeezing his arm and going to the back of the plane. 

That evening, Bucky was making them both some pasta with pesto and chicken. Clint was trying to hide the fact that he could cook something other than pancakes to wring was many homemade meals out of Bucky as he could.

“You should have seen Steve’s face when I did that backflip off of the car, hon. He made like he was going to catch me, he was like,” He started doing an exaggerated version of what Clint could only assume was a cartoon character, trying to catch someone jumping from a burning building. Clint laughed at the face Bucky was pulling.

“Man. You had so much more fun than I did.” Clint said after Bucky quit pantomiming. “I just made Nat mad at me and spat a Ricola on a guy.” Bucky snorted.

“You did  _ what?”  _ Clint sighed and poured himself some more lemonade.

“Yeah, in the morning, Nat had coffee ready for me and instead of telling her how awesome she is, I said that you made better coffee.” Bucky sucked air in through his teeth and Clint nodded, looking into his drink.

“Yeah, you messed up.” Bucky leant on the counter. “You apologise?”

“Yeah, kind of. I tried to and she said she forgave me, so I guess I got that goin’ for me.” Bucky chuckled. 

“Well, this is ready. You wanna eat here or in the living room?” Bucky picked up two plates. 

“In here. I’ll fall asleep on the couch.” Bucky grinned as he slid the plates down onto the breakfast bar. 

“Want to go to see a movie or something tomorrow?” Bucky asked after a few bites of chicken. Clint smiled shyly at him.

“Yeah. Between the briefings and the missions and the debriefings, I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks except to sleep.” Bucky sighed and nodded as he took a few sips of lemonade. 

“We just gotta let Steve work this out of his system, and we’ll be able to go back to doing missions together in no time.”

* * *

 

"Do you really think this is the solution?" Natasha swung her feet from her perch on the counter as Steve drank deeply from a glass of water.

"Yeah, I think so." He said after a beat. "They need to work with other people on the team. They work well together, don't get me wrong, but what happens when we go on a whole team mission and they can't integrate anymore because they've gotten used to each other?" 

Natasha nodded as Steve refilled his water glass. He sensed she had more to say, so he sat down when he was through.

"I just think they're both finally with somebody that makes them happy." Natasha said, shrugging her shoulders like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Maybe let them have their honeymoon?"

"Only those two would honeymoon deep in the field." Tony snarked as he loaded the dishwasher. 

"Maybe they need to do something healthy as a honeymoon." Bruce suggested. "You know, lay on a beach somewhere, get a little tan, get a little drunk," 

"They didn't just get  _married,_ guys," Steve said, spreading his hands. "They've only been together a few months." 

"Okay, but when was Red Scare's last relationship?" Tony asked derisively. That stumped Steve and Tony shook a fork at him. "See? Hawkass has been married to work, so I'm betting this is the first relationship they've had in a long time." 

"Maybe we shouldn't send them to like Bora Bora or anything crazy, but what if we let them have the next few days off. It  _is_ going to be Valentine's Day pretty soon." Natasha said, waggling her eyebrows.

"Did they even do Valentine's Day back in your day, Grandad? Or was it still Lupercalia back then," Tony said, scraping a plate into the garbage disposal. Steve rolled his eyes at the joke.

"Of course they did, Tony. We just never had the money to do anything, even if we were sweet on a girl." Natasha slid from the counter and leant her elbows on the breakfast bar.

"Well, we have that now. What would Bucky like to do?" Steve saw where she was headed with this and wracked his brain. "Clint would love to stay in, have some takeout, watch bad movies," She listed. "Maybe go out and see a movie?"

"Bucky's always like museums, since we were kids." Steve said, snapping his fingers. "So what, museum in the daytime, come home and watch a bunch of bad movies?" Steve said, spreading his hands and nodding.

"How are we going to get them to think this was their idea?" Bruce spoke up again. "They're going to do the exact opposite out of spite if we make them think we want them to go on a date." Steve shrugged and sat back down before answering him.

"We have a couple of days. We'll think of something."


	3. February 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try to kick off their date day, but Manhattan has other plans.

The next day, everybody slept in that could. Tony had to do some Stark Industries stuff, but he didn’t really sleep as it was. Steve was awake and exercising, even though they all got plenty while on mission.

To his surprise, he found Bucky downstairs, already working the heavy bag. 

“Do you not know the meaning of rest day?” Bucky asked him between punches. Steve gave him the most judgemental look. “I know that I don’t know what it means, I was asking you.” Bucky snarked back. Steve cracked a smile.

“I dunno. Shouldn’t you be in bed? Had a long day yesterday.” Steve said, wrapping his hands. Bucky was working on the only bag that Steve could hit without getting sand everywhere, so he figured he’d take some time getting ready. The dark rings under Bucky’s eyes looked like he needed that heavy bag.

“So did you,” Bucky replied easily, kicking the bag as it swung. There was a brief pause as Steve let Bucky chew on that for awhile. “Clint had a nightmare.” Bucky caught the bag and stepped back, looking a little lost. Steve nodded slowly and sat down on the bench.

“What happened?” Bucky shrugged, then put his hand on the back of his neck.

“I guess he thought I was trying to get him. Not ‘me’ me, but that I was somebody that was going to hurt him. He flipped his lid, tried to get away from me. I was asleep, so when he started thrashing I woke up and saw him sitting on the floor, middle of a panic attack. We walked through that, and now he’s back in bed.” Bucky sighed and toyed with the string on his sweatpants. “I didn’t want to be in bed and have a repeat performance.” Steve nodded slowly.

“You can crash in my room if you’re still tired,” He offered. “I’m probably going to work for a bit then relax on the couch with some movies.” Bucky shrugged.

“I’m not really tired.” He began to unwrap his hands and back away from the bag. “Have at it, champ.” Steve stood up and clapped him on the back.

“It’ll get better.” Bucky nodded and looked up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, that’s what they say,” He replied noncommittally.

“Why don’t you guys go out or something? Have a day on the town.” Steve said easily. Bucky nodded a few times.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably what will help. I’ll pitch it when he wakes up again.” Bucky replied, stretching a little. “I’m going to go see if he’s alright.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“How long have you been at this?” Bucky furrowed his brow and looked at his phone.

“Clint woke up at about 7,” Steve looked over Bucky’s shoulder. It was 9:23 am. 

“You’ve been down here the whole time?” Bucky nodded sheepishly. “Hit the showers, Buck. You’re not training tomorrow, either.” Steve said, chuckling.

“I was just thinking,” Bucky said, laughing back at Steve. “I guess I was thinking too hard.” 

“Wow, call the press,” Steve snarked, crossing his arms and grinning. “You thinking in general.” Bucky threw his towel at Steve and went upstairs. As he rode up in the elevator, he thought about the look in Clint’s eyes when he frantically pushed Bucky away. A chill went down his spine and he padded out of the elevator. He wasn’t going to forget that face anytime soon, and he hoped that Clint never had to see him wearing it. He found Clint in the bedroom, partially awake and scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” Bucky said, waving his hand beyond the phone in Clint’s line of sight. Clint looked up from his phone and smiled. It didn’t warm his eyes. “You feelin’ better?” He asked, crawling into bed next to him.

“Yeah,” Clint said loudly, rolling over to be nose-to-nose with him. They looked softly at each other for a moment before Clint wrinkled his nose. “You smell like I feel.” Bucky barked a laugh and got out of bed.

“I’ll go shower. You hungry?” He asked, still facing Clint.

“Starved. Want me to make pancakes?” Clint offered, sitting up and pawing for his hearing aids.

“Nah. Let’s go to that bagel place you like.” Bucky said, smiling as Clint’s face lit up.

“Brooklyn’s? Great!” Clint waved him into the bathroom and went to choose some clothes. Bucky looked like he had been put through the ringer, and Clint only had himself to blame. Clint climbed into an old grey sweatshirt from his drawer and swapped his sweats out for some jeans. He sniffed the sweatshirt and grimaced. That sweatshirt went on the floor in the closet and he put on a dark blue one with a seam blowout he couldn’t remember getting. He considered just leaving it on, but his jeans had huge holes in the knees and he didn’t want to look like he felt this morning. The blue sweatshirt went on the floor, and after a quick check of the weather, he put on a white knit sweater. It had a big coffee stain on the arm, and he glared at it, trying to decide if he had just put away a basket of dirty laundry or if he forgot to treat the stain.

“I think you need some new shirts.” Bucky commented, walking into a big pile of discarded shirts. Clint turned to him and Bucky laughed. “And pants.” 

“My clothes are fine,” Clint objected, holding out a tee shirt with a burn in the centre of the chest. “What did I even  _ do to this?” _

“There’s a place to get clothes right on 8th. I see those kind of shirts in the window all the time.” Clint nods at him and ends up putting on a plain white tee shirt, and hides the pasta stain on the belly with a partially-zipped purple hoodie. 

“Yeah, that’s a T.J. Maxx. Don’t tell Tony I shop there. He’ll be scandalised.” Bucky laughed and dropped his towel as he rooted around in his drawer. All of his clothes were folded neatly, something probably left over from his time as a soldier. Clint sheepishly stuffed his pants into the drawer and shut it. Bucky found what he was going to wear and put his hands on his hips, adopting a falsetto.

“The press, Barton! Always be aware of the press!” Clint grinned and waggled his eyebrows at him.

“I like that pose on you.” Bucky’s chest and neck reddened. 

“Let’s go get some breakfast and coffee. You’re clearly thirsty.” Bucky shot back grinning. Clint burst into surprised laughter. Sometimes, Bucky says things like “Watch it, pal, I’m about to snap my cap and then you’ll be  _ really  _ sore!” and other times, he calls his boyfriend ‘thirsty’.

What a time to be alive.

 

***

 

They walked to the Columbus Circle station and got on the C line to the 23rd Street station. When they sat down in the car, they chatted about what they were going to do the rest of the day and what they wanted at breakfast. A small boy with red hair and big green eyes watched wearily as they held hands. He caught Clint’s eye and Clint waved. 

“You’re an Avenger.” The little boy said with his fingers in his mouth. A woman with red hair and green eyes who Clint assumed was his mum scooped him up and bounced him on her knee.

“Come now, Zach. I’m sure they don’t want to be bothered on the train,” She said, face reddening. 

“Mum, but it’s the Avengers!” Zach said in a stage whisper. Clint chuckled and winked at Bucky. 

“How’d you know?” Clint asked, going goggle-eyed. “We thought we were hiding really well!” Zach giggled and hid behind his mum’s shoulder. He murmured something into her shirt. “I didn’t quite catch that, bud. Can you say it again?” 

“He has a metal arm,” Zach replied, pointing. Bucky looked down at his hand, shocked.

“What? When did this happen?” Zach laughed at him and Clint grinned. Zach’s mum chuckled. 

“You gotta be an Avenger, too.” Zach pointed at Clint. “Avengers are only friends with Avengers.” Clint laughed, the happy sound bringing an even wider smile to Bucky’s face. 

“Nah, I’m friends with lotsa people that aren’t Avengers!” He said, waving a hand to Zach. “What about you, Buck? Are you friends with people that aren’t Avengers?”

“Pshh, I’m friends with waaay more people that aren’t Avengers than you,” Bucky said, nudging Clint with his shoulder. Zach belly laughed.

“Nuh-uh!” He squealed, bouncing his mum around. His mum looked thrilled he wasn’t trying to eat the gum under the seat. You have really low standards when you’re raising a four-year-old. “I’m friends with the most not Avengers!” Clint laughed.

“Nah, cos you’re at  _ least _ friends with us two!” He said, pointing his thumb at Bucky. Zach gasped.

“You’re my friend?” He asked after stopping the bouncing. 

“Of course!” Clint said. The speaker announced their stop. “Pound it,” He offered the kid his fist and the kid gave him a knuckle-touch.

“See you around, buddy,” Bucky said, messing up his hair.

“Bye, friends!” Zach waved as the door shut. Clint and Bucky lingered on the platform to wave at the train.

“God, kids are so cool,” Clint said as they took the stairs.

“Kids are great,” Bucky agreed. “Anybody older than like, eight, is too nervous to come say hi.” He pouted.

“I mean, would you come say hi to you? You got the resting bitch face of a god,” Clint joked, threading his fingers between Bucky’s.

“ _ I’ve  _ got a resting bitch face? You once made a baby cry with your resting bitch face.” Bucky scoffed. Clint chuckled as they exited the station and wandered to the storefront.

“You getting the usual?” He asked Bucky, getting in line. Bucky bobbed his head and took a seat near the window. Clint ordered their food and coffee, then joined him. They sat in companionable silence for awhile, before Clint set down his bagel and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Ew,” Bucky said, around a mouthful of food.

“Ew!” Clint said, laughing a little. Bucky rolled his eyes and bumped him with his shoulder. After Bucky was done chewing, Clint cleared his throat. “So, I was thinking, maybe, if we don’t have anything to do on Valentines’ Day, we could---” Clint stopped and looked past Bucky to the window with an incredulous look on his face. “Is that a flying lizard?” He asked, making it sound like a statement.

“What?” Bucky said reflexively. What was in that bagel? 

“A flying-” Clint said, pointing. Bucky waved him off as he turned.

“I heard ya, I heard ya,” He said, leaning forward in his chair. “Holy shit! That’s a flying lizard!” They got up from the table and hurried outside.

“I told you,” Clint grumbled, shielding his eyes from the sun. “They don’t call me Hawktastebuds,” Bucky was too busy mentally to address that. “I’m calling the team,” Clint continued, sounding defeated.

“Y’ello?” Tony picked up, sounding abnormally chipper. A crowd of people ran past and Bucky ushered them into the subway station. 

“There’s a flying lizard over Manhattan,” Clint said bluntly.

“A what?” Tony coughed out his coffee as he rushed to the window. Clint rolled his eyes.

“A flying--”

“My god! That’s a huge-ass flying lizard!” Tony interrupted him. Clint huffed and put a hand on his hip.

“I never would have guessed! Wow! Thanks, Ton!” He said sarcastically. Tony wasn’t listening. 

“Hey, guys? Looks like the Avengers gotta assemble,” Tony said over the intercom. 

“What’s happening?” Steve asked from the training room.

“Giant flying lizard over Manhattan,” Tony explained. Clint squawked at the disrespect, and Tony sighed. “Spotting props go to Birdman.” 

“Bring my bow!” Clint called as he hung up. He started helping Bucky get people below ground.

“Did they say they were on the way?” Bucky asked. Clint dipped his head and gave him a thumbs up. Moments later, a red-and-gold streak cut through the sky.

“Great. Tin Can Man with a Plan, first on the scene,” Clint said sarcastically.  **“Give us our shit!”** Tony swooped back around and landed, putting up his facemask. 

“Here’s your suits. Cap’s on the bike, he should be here in a minute with your gear.” They dove back into the bagel shop.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d be getting butt-naked in a bagel shop today,” Clint said offhand as he shovelled the last few bites of his bagel into his mouth.

“You’re gonna get a cramp,” Bucky said, taking off his sweater. “Wait, you’re getting butt-naked? Why?” 

“What, you wear underwear with yours?” Clint asked, shinnying out of his jeans.

“Clint, just this once, wear underwear with yours.” Bucky said, glancing at the swinging door to the back room. “There’s windows.” Clint rolled his eyes but complied.

“This is gonna be a long fight.” He groused.

 

***

And it was. Nat and Clint were laying on the sidewalk, and Bucky was sitting on the kerb between them.

“I think my hair hurts,” Clint moaned. “Can you sprain your hair?” Bucky laid down on the sidewalk.

“I think you can.” He said, repressing a whine. Clint sighed. He was vaguely aware of somebody talking, but the hit from the thing’s tail took out his comms and hearing aids. 

“This would have been so up Thor’s alley,” Clint said, sitting up. He clutched at his ribs and coughed. Natasha eyed him wearily, knowing the sound of a ‘my-ribs-are-broke’ wheeze. “Why’d he have to go see Jane, anyway?” 

“Valentine’s Day,” Natasha said. “We explained it to him and he left that evening.” Clint grinned crookedly. 

“Well, that’s adorable.” He tracked Tony as he streaked through the sky with a helicopter behind him, leading the clean-up crew to the giant, flying, acid spitting (which they found out  _ way _ too late) lizard. Clint watched tiredly as the MedEvac showed up. Steve, being Miss America, didn’t have a scratch on him. Tony was the decoy to get the lizard away from the high rise. Natasha fell in a window thanks to a wing-flap microburst while trying to get in range. Bucky got some of the acid on him. Clint also got the acid on him, but not as badly. Bucky took the brunt of it.

The thing geared up to spit at Clint after he hit it right in the eye with an arrow. Bucky saw from the other side of the street and threw himself across the alley, tackling Clint to the ground. The lizard went in for the bite after, but Clint managed to get it to eat an explosive arrow from the ground. Steve pulled it down from the roof, as it was starting to collapse, but he had grabbed a wing and the damn thing still had some fight left it in. Clint was then tail-whipped off a two story building. 

The positive is Bruce was able to stay home. There was already enough property damage from the acid spit. They didn’t need to add the “Sorry our friend, the giant green rage monster, ruined your storefront” cards and wine to the whole mess.

“Hey, guys?” Steve said, hustling over to where his team was. “Med team is here.” He helped Bucky stand. The acid had hit from just below his jawline to nearly his hip on his right side, so he could walk, albeit painfully. Natasha just needed a few dozen stitches in various places. Clint staggered to his feet and Bucky looped Clint’s arm over his shoulders. Clint was essentially fine as well, just the ribs and the acid on the left leg. 

“You ready to head out?” The man driving the rig called back. Bucky was on the stretcher and Nat and Clint sat in the jump seats, to the mild distress of the paramedic. He shot the man his ‘I used to be a criminal and I’ll be one again’ face and the man let it slide. 

The ride to medical was quiet. Bucky’s jaw was clenched in pain. Clint’s leg felt like it was on fire, and he only had a small burn. He carded his hand through Bucky’s hair and frowned at his glassy expression. 

“Can’t you guys do anything?” Clint asked, voice taut. “He’s in a lot of pain.” The paramedic had been working on Natasha’s cuts. 

“We can’t put anything on it topically because we don’t know what that substance is, and we don’t have anything in the van that he won’t metabolise immediately.” The paramedic said sadly. He looked genuinely guilty. “We’re almost there.” Bucky reached up and threaded his fingers on his left hand through Clint’s.

“I’ll be okay,” Bucky rasped. Clint frowned at the coolness of the metal in his hand. In the time that they’d been together, Bucky had never touched him with his left hand unless it was an emergency. Clint chewed his lip nervously as Bucky closed his eyes and took measured breaths. He shot a glance at Nat. She was watching Bucky intensely and looked up to Clint when she noticed him looking. She shook her head slowly.

When they pulled into the hospital, Nat and Clint were given a number to wait to be seen by the clinic doctor, while they took Bucky upstairs. The only reason why Clint didn’t have a few words with the woman at the front desk was because she had a pin on her pink scrub jacket that said “World’s Best Grandma”.

“Young man, I don’t care if he’s your husband of fifty years, you will need to be seen first before you go up there.” She said, crossing her arms.

“But,” He stuttered, holding his hands out.

“Butts stink and so do excuses,” The World’s Best Grandma replied. “You won’t be any use to him looking like you’ve been in a car accident.” She said, a little sweeter. “The wait time isn’t long, honey. Have some coffee and calm your nerves.” He listened to her advice, and by the time she called his name, Natasha didn’t have to rub circles on his back to get him to stop shaking the coffee out of his cup and he could hear more than just his heartbeat in his ears.

“Thank you,” He said quietly to her on the way past. 

“It’s my job, dear. I hope I won’t see you again for awhile,” She replied, grinning wide. Clint shot her his trademarked lopsided grin.

“Likewise.”

The doctor told him a few things he already knew about his ribs, put a few butterflies on his split forehead, and then inspected the burn on his leg further.

“Well, son, we still have yet to figure out what to do with this.” He gestured at his leg. “Your friend upstairs,”

“My boyfriend.” Clint corrected automatically. 

“Your boyfriend upstairs, he didn’t take well to the two treatments we tried,” The doctor started again easily. Not everyone had been so happy about two of the Avengers dating. Clint’s heart rattled around in his skull, blocking out the other noise in the hospital that was above his hearing range.

“What does that mean?” The doctor held up his hands.

“It’s alright, we’ve got Stark and Banner on the horn. They’re trying to figure out what it was made out of, but for now, we’re justing giving him the good stuff. You’re cleared to head up there now.” Clint tore out of the E.R. as quickly as he could go without getting in trouble. He was grateful to see Natasha already sitting by his bed. 

“Hey,” Clint said, low in his throat. He felt it reverberate in his chest, just another thing shaking the bolts out of his body. Bucky raised his left hand in greeting. “You look stoned out of your mind,” Clint said, cracking a grin.

“Yep.” Bucky said shortly. “I am that,” Clint chuckled and perched on the table next to the door. There were a few beats of silence while Clint texted Steve, getting the skinny on what the Tony and Bruce were working on. “You know, I was looking forward to this evening,” Bucky confessed, out of the blue.

“What?” Clint asked absently, looking up from his phone. Bucky rolled a fraction of an inch closer to him to face him better and hissed as it sent pain up his arm and neck.

“You said we could go to the movies this evening,” Bucky said, almost accusingly. “You went and jinxed it, I think.” Clint barked a laugh.

“Alright. Next time, I’ll let you ask me out. Deal?” Bucky was drifting off, but Clint was pretty sure he caught a mumbled, “Deal.”


End file.
